


Too hot for this kind of thing

by belmanoir



Category: due South
Genre: Fraser making sound effects, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-05
Updated: 2012-04-05
Packaged: 2017-11-03 02:15:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/375978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belmanoir/pseuds/belmanoir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"Your friend Mark called, invited us to a benefit game for some Inuit charity he's doing next month." He sits down on the edge of the cot next to Fraser. "I know you been sweating to death in this apartment. I figured we could go up, take a break from the Chicago heat."</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too hot for this kind of thing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Queue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queue/gifts).



> Written for my Fraser sound effects meme, prompt: "clunk."

Ray lets himself into Fraser's apartment, sweat already starting to trickle down the back of his neck. Fraser's landlord should really be lynched. Did he bother to insulate the building at _all_? 

Fraser is sitting on his cot reading. He's still in the pants that go with the brown uniform, but he's barefoot and down to his undershirt and braces. His face is flushed. He's never really adjusted to Chicago summers.

"I got you something, Benny." Ray tries not to grin like an idiot as he hands Fraser a wrapped box. "Bet you can't guess what it is."

Fraser, of course, takes that as a challenge. His eyes gleam and narrow and he turns the box on its side, listening carefully as something inside slides from one end to the other. "Clunk," he says quietly to himself. He turns it back the other way. "Clunk." The gleam dies out of his eyes. He straightens and looks at Ray, wiping his forehead. "It's a book." 

Dief barks.

"Yes, Diefenbaker, I did notice the slightly uneven weight distribution," Fraser tells the wolf. "But that could easily be accounted for by a bookplate or even a large or novelty bookmark."

Ray would swear that Dief rolls his eyes too. "Just open the box," he says, smirking. He knew Fraser wouldn't be able to guess.

Fraser reaches over and pulls his bowie knife out of his empty boot to slice through the tape. He carefully removes the wrapping paper and folds it, setting it aside for reuse. Then he opens the box and takes out _Tourist's Guide to the Settlements of Northern Canada_. Two airline tickets to Inuvik are sticking out the top. "Oh." Benny pulls the tickets out slowly, turning them over and over in his hands, reading the fine print on the back as if it could explain what they meant. The sweat on his hands smears the ink.

Ray's never a real patient guy, and right now he's already on edge. "Your friend Mark called, invited us to a benefit game for some Inuit charity he's doing next month." He sits down on the edge of the cot next to Fraser. "I know you been sweating to death in this apartment. I figured we could go up, take a break from the Chicago heat."

Benny takes in a deep breath like he can already feel the cool, and his eyes start to shine quietly. But his expression stays unconvinced. "You really want to go, Ray?"

Of course Ray doesn't really want to go--he read part of that book and apparently the biggest tourist attraction in Inuvik is a church shaped like an igloo--but that's totally beside the point. He would go in a heartbeat if he thought it would make Fraser happy. Ray bites his lip. Moment of truth. "I got enough vacation saved up," he says. "But you know, you want to go by yourself, spend some time with Mark, my feelings won't be hurt." Probably the biggest lie Ray's ever told in a lifetime of dishonesty, but he promised himself he was gonna be a man about this.

Fraser frowns. "What are you saying, Ray?"

"Well, you know." Ray shifts uncomfortably. "I don't want to get in the way of anything."

Fraser's frown deepens. "You're my best friend, Ray," he says in that straightforward way of his, as if Ray's heart doesn't rev like the Riv's engine every time he says it--which is stupid twice over, because what, is he afraid that maybe since the last time he said it Fraser replaced him with the elevator repairman? "Of course you wouldn't be in the way."

His stubborn refusal to get it makes Ray mad. "Don't get all coy with me, Fraser," he says. "The guy stayed at your place while he was here! You telling me nothing happened?"

Fraser's eyebrows shoot up. "Oh," he says slowly. "Yes, Ray, nothing happened. However, had he made advances, I would probably not have rejected them." He's watching Ray like this is an interrogation, and Ray had no idea at all what Fraser is seeing in his face. He doesn't really care, either, so long as it's not the truth. 

"Does that make you uncomfortable?" Fraser asks, leaning towards Ray slightly. It puts his face in a beam of light--Ray can see a drop of sweat slide out from under Fraser's damp hair. And Fraser couldn't have moved more than an inch, but suddenly Ray can _smell_ him, sweat and starch and Mountie soap.

Ray scoots hastily out of range. "Uncomfortable?" he parrots, his voice coming out a little too high. Man, even the wolf can see this is going nowhere good. The furry coward jumps out onto the fire escape and lies on the carpet sample Fraser put there to keep the metal from burning Dief's paws.

Fraser sighs. "I had thought that in a cosmopolitan center such as Chicago, homosexuality would be more easily accepted. I suppose I was being naïve, and unfair to the rural communities I was used to." His eyes are anxious. "The city provides anonymity, but--"

Once Fraser gets started like this, he can go on for hours, and he'll never just come out and say, _Please don't dump me because I came out to you_. "Fraser, it doesn't make me uncomfortable that you're gay," Ray interrupts, and Fraser relaxes. Ray feels like killing something. "I mean, you and Smithbauer, it just makes sense, right?" He can hear the bitterness in his voice. He doesn't understand why he can never quit while he's ahead, but he can't. "You're both Canadian, you both like hockey, you're both big and good-looking and in perfect shape, and he can even go outside in the snow without feeling like his balls are gonna fall off--"

Something in Fraser's face changes, although Ray's not sure what. "Actually, Mark isn't in perfect shape," he says. "His knee probably won't last him very many more games." He shifts, spreading his knees and leaning his elbows on them. Classic let's-have-a-serious-conversation Fraser.

Ray scoots an inch or two farther away. "That's too bad," he says, and fights the urge to remind Fraser that Smithbauer is a cheating scumbag.

"You know, Ray," Fraser says, "there is a popular saying that opposites attract."

Ray's heart stutters and stalls. Luckily it takes more than that to stop his mouth. "Yeah, Fraser, and there's also a popular saying that birds of a feather shall flock together. Popular sayings don't mean jack."

Fraser purses his lips. "Or perhaps both are true, Ray. In my experience, superficial contrasts can be very appealing, provided there is an underlying similarity of outlook."

There's a long, taut moment while Ray tries to decide if Smithbauer would be able to follow Fraser's philosophical ramblings about the sainthood of every human being. 

"Or take two other contradictory proverbs," Fraser says. His hands are loosely clasped, but his undershirt does nothing to hide the tension in his shoulders. "'Absence makes the heart grow fonder' and 'out of sight, out of mind.' In Chicago, Canada seems even dearer than it did when I lived there. Frostbite and thin ice and isolation lose their sharp edges. And yet--" He pauses to clear his throat, and Ray realizes that somehow he's lost all the ground he gained a minute ago, his knee is pressed against Fraser's and if Fraser doesn't finish his sentence, Ray is going to have a stroke. There's no way it's healthy for his heart to be beating this fast when it's a hundred and twenty degrees in the apartment. "Yet the loss is more bearable than I'd expected. I find myself growing--attached to certain elements of city life. Indeed, I've come to realize that perhaps Northern Canada is not as essential to my emotional and spiritual well-being as I had always supposed."

By now Ray's sweating like a pig from all the adrenalin, which can't be attractive, but he reaches out and puts a hand on Fraser's thigh anyway. He's not going to let Fraser do this all by himself. "So you're saying that there are--arguments that I could make that might convince you to stay in Chicago?"

The muscles in Fraser's thigh are practically vibrating under Ray's hand. "I don't think this argument is sufficient on its own," he says steadily, "but it's certainly a step in the right direction."

Ray slides his hand a few inches higher, and--oh. _Oh_. The Mountie pants don't hide a lot, and that was some definite movement. Just from Ray feeling him up a little. That's it, Ray is going to spontaneously combust.

"I'll make any argument you want, Benny," he says, his voice cracking. He slides even closer and puts his other hand on Benny's cheek, because he's damned if he's going to jerk Benny off before he kisses him. After, sure. After, hell yes. But this is Benny and Ray wants to do it right, even if his hand is sliding already in the sweat on Benny's face. "I know it's sorta hot for this kind of thing," he says apologetically, for the first time seeing the positives of the Inuvik trip.

Fraser puts slippery hands on his arms and pulls Ray towards him so fiercely their noses bump together. Ray's gonna make a joke about Eskimo kisses, except now he's kissing Benny. 

He wasn't lying, it really is way too hot for this kind of thing. Ray can feel his shirt sticking to his chest and arms where their body heat is trapped between them, but Benny's lips and tongue are even hotter than the apartment and that's a _good_ thing, a real good thing. He slides his hand up Fraser's cheek and into his slick dark hair and holds Benny there while he kisses him slow and sweet and dirty all at once, Chicago-style. He kisses up Benny's jaw, salty and smooth--how does Benny shave so close with a straight razor?--and nuzzles at the soft spot under his ear.

The moans and groans and whispers are all Ray, but the harsh sound of Fraser's breathing is even louder in Ray's ears. Benny's hands grip his arms tighter than cuffs, push him firmly back so Fraser can mouth his neck, suck at his pulse point, and even lick up the little pool of sweat that's accumulated in the hollow of Ray's throat. "Ray," he says, low and scratchy.

"Benny." Ray's head is swimming. "Hey, Benny. Look at me."

Fraser's mouth comes off Ray's neck with a popping sound, and Fraser brings his head up without loosening his grip on Ray's arms. "Yes?" he asks, his voice tight.

"You'd really give up Canada for this?" 

"I'd give up my hope of heaven for this, Ray," Fraser growls. "Now may I continue?"

"Oh. Sorry. I mean, yeah."

Fraser doesn't even say thank you.


End file.
